


Magical Curse (Sex Pollen edition)- Clint Barton and Steve Rogers

by AnaliseGrey



Series: Analisegrey's Birthday Whump Bingo Challenge 2018 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Analisegrey's Birthday Whump Bingo Challenge 2018, Explicit Consent, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Previously Given Consent, Sex Pollen, magic yo, reaffirmed consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: for square 3 in my birthday whump bingo challenge!Unforth-ninawaters on tumblr asked: "magical curse, MCU, (Fuck or die please? *flagrantly cheats*)"





	Magical Curse (Sex Pollen edition)- Clint Barton and Steve Rogers

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note: This could, in theory, be read as taking place in the Cap Sandwich AU ‘verse, but it's not specifically set there. It’s Cap Sandwich adjacent, I guess? It’s up to you, gentle reader, how you want to interpret that. In any case, I imagine Steve and Clint have hooked up at least once or twice before this fic takes place.

“Steve, Steve  **_please_ ** , I need...” the shouting broke off into what sounded like a sob.

Steve was trying very hard to focus on the doctor from SHIELD medical in front of him instead of the screaming from the observation room, but the more Clint called for him, the harder it was to ignore.

“You said he got hit with  _ what  _ again?”

The SHIELD doctor made a face and shrugged. “Magic of some sort. There’s no medical cause we can find, and we’ve run every scan we can think of; we’re picking up on extreme stress levels, and if we can’t find a way to calm him soon, there’ll be consequences to his health.”

Steve glanced at the window that showed the room Clint was in. Clint was strapped down to the bed, still mostly in his uniform, though the quiver had thankfully been removed. He was currently pulling against the straps holding his arms and chest down, his hair damp with sweat and face flushed; a lab tech was valiantly trying to take a blood sample, but Clint wasn’t staying still long enough for her to manage. Steve watched as two orderlies came over and pinned him down, letting the lab tech work. Clint’s screams only escalated; but Steve noticed he never yelled at the people touching him. 

He just kept yelling for  _ Steve _ .

Steve turned back to the doctor, who was also looking into the observation room.

“Have you tried sedating him?”

The doctor snorted. “That was one of the first things we tried. We gave him enough that it would have put  _ you  _ down, but it hasn’t done anything to him. Again...magic. We’re at a loss. He’s calling for you, and you’re the name on his SP20 form, so…”

Steve paused, trying to think back to all the paperwork he’d filled out when he started working with SHIELD. “SP20 form?”

The doctor looked mildly uncomfortable. “The SP20 form is a specialized sub-form of the medical-consent suite of forms. It’s intended to convey consent for certain forms of specialized treatment should they become necessary.”

Steve thought hard, and he could vaguely remember something like that. It had been written in SHIELD-ese, something about ‘unusual or unorthodox treatments that may require assistance from fellow agents or personnel’. He’d signed full consent for himself and toward anyone else; how was he going to deny any of his teammates medical help? 

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “What kinds of specialized treatments?”

The doctor squirmed under Steve’s intense gaze. “Well, SHIELD agents have been known to encounter some... _ unusual _ ailments that can require unorthodox treatment options. The SP20 form helps to cover consent in those instances.”

Steve straightened to his full height. “What. Kinds. Of. Treatments.”

The doctor swallowed. “Um, in this  _ specific  _ instance, we think intimate contact and/or intercourse.”

Steve’s brain stuttered to a halt. “Wait,  _ what _ ?”

The doctor nodded. “Form SP20 indicates that should Agent Barton ever fall under the influence of a certain range of ailments, up to and including a quote unquote “sex pollen” or similar condition, the person he wants called to deal with it is you, Captain.”

Steve was at a loss. “There’s a  _ form  _ for this?”

Again, the doctor shrugged, calmer now that it didn’t look like Steve was going to yell at them. “Like I said, agents have been known to encounter weird shit, if you’ll excuse the language, Cap. And before you ask, we don’t discuss The Incident.”

Steve could practically hear the capital letters in use, and nodded. “No, I understand; privacy and all. But what am I supposed to do about Clint?”

“That I suppose is largely up to the two of you. We can provide certain forms of assistance and safety measures, but from what we can tell, this will largely be up to the two of you to sort out specifics. We had assumed that you were aware he’d placed you on his form. If you don’t consent, we can continue researching and see what else we can-”

“No! No...I-I’ll help if I can. I’m already here, and we’re pretty close, so…” Steve could feel his face flush and, not for the first time, wished he wasn’t so damned pale.

The doctor nodded. “I’ll go in to inform the orderlies that you’ll be taking over, we’ll grab you some supplies, and then we’ll get out of your way. We’ll set privacy protocols on the room, so it’ll be just the two of you. But you’ll have the intercom and emergency switch you can hit if you require assistance.”

“Yeah, ok.”

Almost before Steve had finished speaking, the doctor was off to the observation room, talking to the orderlies and moving to a cabinet to start taking some items out and placing them on the counter near the sink in the room while the orderlies left. When the doctor came back out, they patted Steve on the arm. “Good luck, let us know if you require assistance. We’ve left the restraints to you because we didn’t want him hurting himself trying to get to you before you were in the room.”

And with that the doctor left. 

Steve took a steadying breath, rolled his shoulders, and headed into the observation room, closing the door behind him. Clint had stopped yelling, but was now quietly whimpering, fussing against the restraints. When he noticed Steve come in, he started struggling harder, like he would have tackled Steve if he could.

“Steve! Steve please, come here, I need you, Steve  _ please- _ ”

Steve approached the bed, and the closer he got, the more Clint’s speech devolved until he was just quietly murmuring Steve’s name over and over, still trying to reach for Steve despite the straps holding him down.

“Oh, Clint.” Steve reached up and ran his hand through Clint’s hair; Clint turned his head toward Steve’s hand, trying to nuzzle in against it.

“Steve- Steve I need…” Clint broke off in a sob again, twisting with a gasp against the restraints.

“What, Clint, tell me what you need, I’ll help you in anyway I can, you just have to tell me how.”

“Need you to touch me, Steve, please, I can’t...I don’t…” Clint was twisting his wrists in the cuffs holding him down, squirming in place, and with a flash of heat to his face, Steve realized he recognized the type of movement, the urgency in Clint’s voice. This is what it looked and sounded like when Clint was so turned on he was out of his mind with it.

What the hell kind of magic  _ was  _ this?

“ _ Steve _ .”

Clint’s eyes were fever bright, his pupils blown so wide there was only a trace of color in a thin circle around them; his face was flushed, the color traveling down his neck and under his vest collar. Steve swallowed hard. “I need you to tell me Clint, exactly what you want. I know you signed a form, but I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with, so I need your words, you need to tell me.”

Clint growled in frustration, back arching up off the bed before falling back down, panting.

“I need your hands on me, Steve, I need you to fuck me, I want your hands and your mouth, I want-” Clint shuddered, “I want, I need to  _ feel  _ you, just touch me, please, please,  _ please- _ ” Clint broke off into a pained whine, and Steve couldn’t wait anymore. If he could help with this in some way, he had to try.

With a mental apology to SHIELD medical, Steve reached down and ripped the cuffs and straps holding Clint clean off the bed. The moment he was free, Clint was up and moving, the cuffs falling from his wrists as he plastered himself to Steve’s front and scrabbled at the front of Steve’s uniform, trying to figure out how to get it open, how to get it off.

Steve reached for Clint’s wrists, catching them and moving to hold them with one hand. “Shhh, Clint, it’s ok, hold on let me just-” Using his free hand, Steve started to undo the hidden catches on his uniform so he could get at the zippers that would give Clint access. The moment Steve let go, Clint was on him, and only the fact that they were made of heavy-duty materials saved the zippers from being ripped out as Clint proceeded to peel Steve’s uniform off of him as fast as he could. Steve was quickly stripped to the waist, and even with Clint pressed up against him, Clint wasn’t calming down. If anything he seemed to get more frantic.

“Clint, we need to get your uniform off, too.”

Clint’s face contracted in a hazy scowl, and if the situation hadn’t been so dire, Steve might have laughed.

“Here, Clint, let me help you.” It looked like it took effort, but Clint held his arms loose as Steve efficiently helped strip him out of his uniform top and underlayer, pausing at the fastener to Clint’s pants. “Is this ok?”

Clint nodded, hands coming up to rest lightly on Steve’s shoulders while Steve worked to get Clint’s pants off of him. Steve could feel Clint’s hands shaking, and he thought that bothered him more than anything else so far. He’d never seen Clint’s hands shake, no matter how intense the situation.

Clint grunted in frustration as his boots got in the way of taking his pants off, and muttered curses as he bent down to undo the buckles and laces, kicking them off and yanking his pants down before Steve could reach to help him.

“God _ damnit _ , Steve, why are you still wearing pants?” Clint stood back up and pulled Steve’s head down to his level, kissing him like he’d die without it, and Steve had the sobering thought that actually, he  _ might _ .

Steve got with the program, using a hand on Clint’s arm to keep his balance as he fought his own boots and pants to get free. He had to pull away to unfasten his boots- SHIELD R&D had wanted to be very sure everything stayed where it should during a fight, but that meant it was hard to get out of in a hurry. By the time he was naked, Clint was grabbing for him again, any patience he’d exhibited going up in a puff of smoke. Clint was harder than Steve had ever seen him, already leaking onto the floor. Steve pulled him close into a scorching kiss, and Clint whined into it biting and nipping at Steve’s mouth as Steve walked them closer to the bed in the room.

“Get up on the bed Clint. I just need to grab something.” Clint looked two seconds from arguing, then nodded, tension running through him, and climbed up onto the bed. Steve swiftly moved to the counter, finding the lube packets and condoms the doctor had left out for him, and grabbed a few handfuls of each to be on the safe side- he didn’t know how long the curse was going to last- and getting back to the bed almost before Clint’d had a chance to settle onto it.

“What do you want, Clint, tell me.”

Clint reached down and gripped Steve’s dick, giving it a gentle but shakey squeeze.

“Fuck me. Hard.”

Steve swallowed, a dry click in his throat. “O-Okay. Right then.”

The first time was quick and rougher than they’d ever gone; Steve kept trying to check in with Clint, make sure he was ok, but Clint just kept encouraging him to go faster, or harder, or “ _ fuck _ , Rogers, yes,  _ right there _ , Jesus, don’t stop”. Neither of them lasted long, and Steve was only barely able to hang on til Clint came first, shuddering under him.

Steve took a moment to catch his breath, and looked up at Clint, reaching up to brush Clint’s hair off his eyes.

“You ok in there?”

Clint cracked his eyes open. They were still bleary, and didn’t look as crazed as before, but Steve could still feel the tension in Clint’s body. 

“I think I might have one more in me, Cap, if that’s alright?”

“Sure doll, anything you need, you know that. Think you could drink something first? They’ve got some of that red stuff you like.”

Clint nodded, and Steve heaved himself up off the bed, taking care of the condom before heading to the sink to wash his hands. He headed to the small mini fridge in the corner and grabbed two bottles before heading back to the bed. Clint was already getting hard again, but Steve helped him sit up and sip at his bottle before chugging his own down.

“Ok, Clint. You ready for round two?”

“Fuck yes, Cap,  _ please _ .”

Steve reached up and ran his fingers through Clint’s hair, leaving sweaty spikes sticking up in odd directions.

“I think at this point you can probably call me ‘Steve’.”

Clint snorted. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Ok then  _ Steve _ , fuck yes I’m ready for round two.”

The second time was slower, and gentler, if not any less urgent. Clint wrapped himself around as much of Steve as he could, desperate for skin contact. Steve had a feeling if Clint could have crawled inside him- in a non-creepy way- he would have.

When they were done, Steve took the condom off and tied it, tossing it into the sink; he’d deal with it later. In the meantime, he pulled Clint close, wrapping his arms tight around Clint’s shoulders and running a hand up and down Clint’s spine. Clint wasn’t shaking anymore, and in fact had gone limp as a rag against Steve’s chest.

“You ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just...that was a lot, ya know?”

“I can only imagine. How’re you feeling?”

“More in control, don’t feel like my skin’s about to crawl off anymore. I think that took care of it. Thanks a lot, Steve, I appreciate it.”

“I’d say ‘any time’, but I’m really hoping this sort of thing only happens once.”

“Considering what our lives are like? I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Steve hummed in agreement, shifting Clint to a more comfortable position so Clint’s head was pillowed on Steve’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you rest a moment.”

“The doctors prob’ly wanna check me over.” Clint yawned, his eyes already sliding shut.

“They probably do, but they can wait a few minutes.” Steve ran his fingers through Clint’s hair again, and Clint sighed, his weight against Steve’s shoulder going limp and loose, his breath evening out and deepening as he fell asleep. 

Steve would have to wake him up in a few minutes to get him to drink more, and maybe eat something, and for the doctors to check him over, but for now, Steve let his own eyes drift closed and just let the quiet sound of Clint’s breathing lull him into a doze.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still accepting prompts for the moment! [Come find me on tumblr](http://analisegrey.tumblr.com/) and say hi!


End file.
